


The Selkie Queen

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [313]
Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Violence, Poetry, Revenge, Royalty, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Selkie Wife retold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: any fairytale, Prince Charming/any, "Hunter" by Dido
> 
> If you were a king up there on your throne  
> Would you be wise enough to let me go  
> For this queen you think you own  
> Wants to be a hunter again
> 
> Written June 17, 2016
> 
> Warnings for marital rape

Once, so the story goes,  
there was a prince wandering along a forgotten shore,  
seeking shells and precious stones.  
He was a collector, you see,  
and what he found he’d not gone looking for.  
Does this pardon him for what came next?  
Well, even now, that’s fiercely debated  
among scholars and historians.  
But that is not important for this tale.  
For this tale, we need only know  
that he found what none had seen before.  
Does it excuse him?  
We won’t bother we that. 

.

This prince, handsome and charming,  
beloved the realm over for his candor and his grace—  
if he’d known, some of us ask,  
would he have done the same?  
No matter.  
What’s done is done.  
And he, our graceful prince,  
as he walked along the shore  
without his courtiers, without his guards,  
he found a luxurious skin  
whose like he’d never felt before.  
And so he, our young prince,  
he examined it and then,  
our sad prince,  
he brought it home.  
Without telling a soul,  
he brought it home. 

.

Oh, our long-gone prince,  
if you had known—  
alas, my dear, he didn’t know. 

. 

Not long after he hid the skin  
in his elegant rooms  
(how did a servant not find it?  
did they and not tell?  
had they but told—  
but as far as is known,  
no one knew.),  
a woman came to court.  
Dark of hair and dark of eyes,  
dressed in finery not seen in years,  
well-spoken and straight-spined,  
she asked for an audience with the prince.  
It was granted, of course.  
He was gracious, our prince. 

.

The woman spoke of a lost treasure,  
stolen while she innocently bathed,  
and demanded of the prince what he would do  
with such a brazen, disrespectful thief.  
Our prince spoke valiantly of honor and nobility,  
and the woman smiled, lips red as blood.  
She thanked the prince for his time,  
Curtsied gracefully, and turned to leave—  
oh, if only the prince had not risen from his throne!  
If only the prince, that sunny day,  
had let the woman go. 

.

But the tale must be told true.  
The prince asked her to dine with him.  
Asked her for her story,  
asked her for her name.  
And the more she spoke,  
the more he fell in love.  
(was it in love he fell?  
or in lust?  
oh, for princes, I fear, they are  
one and the same.)  
And finally, as the meal came to a close,  
the prince asked what the thief had stolen. 

.

He was a good man, our prince.  
So all have said from the time he was a boy.  
He was such a good man.  
So why, some wonder,  
did he not return the skin he found  
when this woman said it was hers?  
Was it because of her beauty?  
Because he had fallen in love  
over the course of a meal?

. 

A week later, the prince’s betrothal was announced.  
How did he convince his father? His mother?  
All the nobles whose daughters could now not be queen?  
Was it the woman’s demand or the prince’s?  
Oh, that is a question with an answer no one knows.  
The woman smiled, or so was reported,  
whenever she was seen in public.  
Never once, though, it is recorded  
did our future queen visit the palace by the shore. 

.

Our king died not long after his son wedded  
the dark-eyed, dark-haired woman  
whose history no one knew.  
Stories were told, questions were asked,  
but it was said how the prince loved her so  
and so it was done.  
But our king died and his son,  
our kind-hearted prince, ascended. 

.

Remember, my dear, I am telling you only what I know.  
Could she not find the skin, our queen?  
Did she not try?  
Had our lovely prince-turned-king threatened her into staying?  
I have my own belief, of course, but I shan’t sway you.  
Let me finish the tale and decide for yourself. 

.

Our queen was gracious, our queen was kind,  
our queen walked among the commoners with ease;  
but never, it seemed, did she spend time with the nobility.  
She would sit quietly beside our king during judgements, smiling.  
She would speak with minstrels, with artisans—  
she commissioned portraits of the ocean,  
had minstrels sing all the songs of the sea they knew.  
Why then, did she never visit the palace by the shore? 

.

They had a daughter, then a son.  
The kingdom rejoiced.  
The queen smiled but the light in her eyes dimmed. 

. 

He was a good man, our king.  
So the stories tell.  
Our tale reaches it close with this:  
there was a fire.  
Both the prince and princess were saved.  
Our king… he was found  
but it was not the fire that killed him.  
And our queen?  
Our well-spoken and straight-spined queen?  
She vanished. 

.

However, whenever the prince and princess  
(who were raised by their grandmother,  
who became regent for the prince)  
spent time at the palace at the shore  
and went walking along the water,  
so it is said,  
a woman would come from the sea,  
would walk with them and sing,  
and kiss them goodbye before sinking back into the waves. 

.

So tell me, my dear,  
what do you believe?  
History says our king was a good man.  
But there are some who wish  
history were told another way.  
Scholars and historians debate to this day.  
I’ve told you only what I know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revised slightly.

Once                (so the story goes)

a prince wandered along a forgotten shore,

seeking shells and precious stones.

He was a collector, you see,

and what he found he’d not gone looking for.

Does this pardon him for what came next?

Well                (even now)     that’s fiercely debated

among scholars and historians.

But that is not important for this tale.

For this tale, we need only know

that he found what none had seen before.

Does it excuse him?

We won’t bother we that.

 

This prince, handsome and charming,

beloved the realm over for his candor and his grace—

if he’d known, some of us ask,

would he have done the same?

No matter.      What’s done is done.

And he, our graceful prince,

as he walked along the shore

           without his courtiers,

           without his guards,

he found a luxurious skin whose like he’d never felt before.

And so he, our young prince,

he examined it and then, our sad prince,

he brought it home.

Without telling a soul,

                                  he brought it home.

 

Not long after he hid the skin in his elegant rooms

               (how did a servant not find it?

                 did they and not tell?

                 had they but told—

                 but as far as is known,

                  no one knew),

a woman came to court.

Dark of hair and dark of eyes,

dressed in finery not seen in years,

well-spoken and straight-spined,

she asked for an audience with the prince.

It was granted, of course.

He was               gracious, our prince.

 

The woman spoke of a lost treasure,

    stolen

while                               innocently

she bathed, and demurely demanded of the prince

what he would do with such a brazen, disrespectful thief.

Our prince spoke valiantly

of                            honor

and                         nobility,

and the woman smiled, lips red as blood.

She thanked the prince for his time,

curtsied gracefully, and turned to leave—

oh, if only the prince had not risen from his throne!

If only the prince, that sunny day, had let the woman go.

 

But the tale must be told true.

 

The prince asked her to dine with him.

                 Asked her for her story,

                 asked her for her name.

And the more she spoke,

the more he fell in love.

              (was it in love he fell?

               or in lust?

               oh, for princes, I fear, they are

               one and the same.)

And finally, as the meal came to a close,

the prince asked what the thief had stolen.

 

A week later, the prince’s betrothal was announced.

How did he convince his father? His mother?

All the nobles whose daughters could now not be queen?

Was it the woman’s demand or the prince’s?

Oh, that is a question with an answer no one knows.

The woman smiled, or so was reported,

whenever she was seen in public.

Never once, though, it is recorded

did our future queen visit the palace by the shore.

 

Our king died not long after his son wedded

the dark-eyed, dark-haired woman

whose history no one knew.

Stories were told, questions were asked,

but it was said how the prince loved her so

and so it was done.

But our king died and

our kind-hearted prince ascended.

 

Our queen was gracious, our queen was kind,

our queen walked among the commoners with ease;

but never, it seemed, did she spend time with the nobility.

She would sit quietly beside our king during judgements, smiling.

She would speak with minstrels, with artisans—

she commissioned portraits of the ocean,

had minstrels sing all the songs of the sea they knew.

Why then, did she never visit the palace by the shore?

 

They had a daughter, then a son.

The kingdom rejoiced.

The queen smiled but the light in her eyes dimmed.

 

He was a good man, our king.

                                        So the stories tell.

Our tale reaches it close with this:

there was a fire. 

Both the prince and princess were saved.

Our king was found,

but twas not the fire that killed him.

And our queen?

Our well-spoken and straight-spined queen?

She vanished.

 

However, whenever the prince and princess

             (who were raised by their grandmother,

              who became regent for the prince)

spent time at the palace at the shore

and went walking along the water,

so it is said,

a woman would come from the sea,

would walk with them and sing,

and kiss them goodbye before sinking back into the waves.

 

 


End file.
